Shouldn't Be: Change of Tides
by MajorFangirlInHere17
Summary: When private detective Alicia Fernandez is invited to one of San Fransisco's most gruesome crime scenes, she meets the recruitment representing the FBI team Alfred F. Jones. Sparks fly with their first meeting, and a much more sinister motive lurks behind, leaving everyone fearful and insecure of everything around them. Will their sanity remain intact? (Warnings Inside!)
1. Chapter 1

**Hi!**

 **I managed to come back into the writing world, after setting aside my original story after getting a plot bunny (and my morbid curiosity into the criminal/medical world) stuck into my brain. To give a fair warning, this is, for the most part, unbeta-ed (aka unedited besides what I manage to catch), so if I do make mistake, I really am sorry.**

 **Another fair warning: there is a very big reason why it is at one of the highest ratings for the site; this story will get dark at times. Meaning there are somewhat explicit scenes of murder sites, mentions of rape/sexual assault, hate crimes, etc. Usually, I don't like writing about things that get as dark as this, but the plot bunny buried itself deep within my mind. With that being said, there are parts in which I do keep it light with comedy and slight OOC-ness. Bear with me for a few chapters because you will soon see our loveable hero again.**

 **Final things before you can continue: I don't own anything at all, except for my OC. Meaning Any Hetalia characters you see in this book are not mine and the places/people mentioned are real-life people. Will try to update bi-weekly, but with my upper-division classes for uni, we'll see how far that'll go.**

* * *

It was a quiet night in the middle of August. The humidity of the Bay Area was finally dying down after a long day, and a few friends were enjoying the refreshing breeze coming from Hunter's Point. The ocean in front of them lapped at the wooden posts holding up the bridge, whispering off into the air. The sun showed off its most impressive hues of deep red and purples while it hid behind the horizon. They continued walking along the pier, quietly chatting away about the ongoings of the Naval Base and their plans for the incoming weekend. The group stopped before reaching the edge and peered down. The smell was still there from their morning patrol, and even though they had reported it to their superiors, they couldn't find the source of the smell. They had mused that it was probably some dead animal, and left it at that.

Until now.

"You guys seeing what I am seeing right?"

Hanging from the ledge there was a garbage bag tied by some rope.

"The tide must have hidden it earlier. Someone give me a hand to reel it in. I swear, if someone thought that it was funny to dump their trash like this, I will see to it that they get punished by the law."

They continued to tug onto the rope until it reached the top of the pier. They hoisted it up and dropped it onto the pier with a loud thunk.

"Call our supervisors that we found the source of the smell," of them said as he held his nose, "Now let's see what's inside."

He pulled out his pocket knife and began to cut open the bag as one of the others got on the radio to notify someone about their findings. The person who was cutting open the bag gave a startled yell and tried to scoot as far away as possible while gagging from the smell before passing out on the pier's floor. HIs buddies were highly concerned and rushed themselves over to him, trying to the best of their abilities to help him up. One of them was curious and broke away from the pack and headed towards the bag. He managed to peer over the edge of the bag before giving a shout of alarm:

"These are human bones! Human bones! Raise the alarm!"

* * *

"What's the situation?"

"Charred remains found after someone called in a suspicious bag tied to a pier in Hunter's Point while reporting a bad smell coming from it as they passed by it earlier this morning. FBI is already at the scene along with the San Franciscan Police investigators. Since the evidence was badly burned and water-logged, we have no traces of DNA belonging to either the victim or the suspect. Naval Forces are currently looking into how the suspect managed to get access "

She began to suit up before entering the crime scene, deftly sliding on her gloves, "You've already had the PD look through the Missing Person's files?"

"They are currently looking for missing reports case within a 10-mile radius."

"Have them search for missing person cases within the entirety of the city's parameters. Especially those that have gone missing within the past 3 months, but not prior to the 3 days. If it does smell enough to be noticeable, then it has been there for a while. Send me an email or call me once you get more information about it."

"Of course."

Once she finished putting on her protective gear, she began to push people from the crowd in order to get onto the crime scene. As soon as she arrived at the taped-off zone, she slipped underneath the tape and rushed to the crime scene.

"Excuse me miss, but you can't be here."

She whipped her head over to the person addressing her. His Caribbean blue eyes were filled with concern for her safety, "May you please leave the premises? I am sure that-"

She cut him off by showing him her custom badge, "Private Detective Alicia Fernandez. Was invited to the crime scene by the Chief of the San Fransisco Investigative Department."

He continued to trail after her, incredulous that this pipsqueak girl was someone on the team, begging her to leave, yet she ignored him and continued on with purpose. At one time, he clasped her hand and harshly tugged to stop her from going. She shifted her body once again, a dead-pan look on her face, before letting a sigh escape from her mouth before answering him, "Look, man. I don't know what your problem is with me being here. I told you the truth; I am Alicia Fernandez who was only recently added to the team, seeing that the knucklehead leading the San Franciscan Police department is lost and is looking for more clues to whomever the victim or the suspect is. So would you please, for whatever deity you follow, stop telling me what to do? Please?"

He still refused to acknowledge her request, "Yeah and I'm Santa Claus!" he answered exasperatedly, "Look, ma'am, just because you think you are the biggest hot-shot here, who thinks you can command everyone to do their bidding, does it mean-"

"Excuse me! I never said or did such a thing! Plus, do I look older than your mother for you to be using ma'am on!?"

"Well, EXCUSE ME, princess!"

"Sir, if you don't-"

They were both interrupted by Gregory Mar and Eric Vintero, the captains of the Administrative Bureau of the Forensic Division and Crime Information Services respectively. "Nice to have you here, Detective Fernandez. Glad you could make it," Captain Mar announced.

"Pleasure was all mine," she replied and shook the hands of both captains. She turned to face the guy that she was arguing with earlier. "Hey kid," she asked, "can you explain why the FBI is in on this case as well?"

He stuttered, "W-well, the higher-ups are concerned that this is connected with 2 other murderers that happened within the past year, that's why we are here."

She nodded, "So you are one of them? Nice to know. Will keep that in mind."

"I take it that you have introduced yourselves, yes?" Captain Vintero pressed on, giving both detectives a wayward glance. The two in question gave each other a side glance before sourly introducing each other:

"Private Detective Alicia Fernandez."

"FBI investigator Alfred Fletcher Jones, at your service. _Princess,"_ he finished, in order to irk her off some more. She returned a peevish glare back to him, not trying to hide how annoyed she was.

"Let's get started then. I hope you two won't mind working together for the sake of the joint investigation, right?"

Alfred let his eyes roll, He was not looking forward to working with this arrogant woman at all. Somehow, neither captain saw his disgust, but Alicia retorted back in mid whisper, "Keep rolling your eyes. Maybe you'll find a brain in there. Probably behind your egoistical cloud that covers your judgment."

He couldn't help himself but let out a groan of frustration.

 **Thank you for considering reading my book and reviews/comments are always welcome!**


	2. Chapter 2

"Based on your experience, what can you tell so far?"

They had brought the remains into the examination room in the Bayview Police Station. Under the bright light illuminating the autopsy table, Alicia was still in the middle of examining the little remains that they found: the pelvic bones, a femur bone, a few metatarsals, full spinal cord complete with all, half of an arm, and an intact skull. She was taking a few measurements using her scale and measuring tape before turning her attention towards Alfred who was standing by the door, watching her work from afar.

"Femur weighs about 295 grams and has a length of roughly 50 centimeters. With this and judging by the shape of the pelvis, the victim is definitely male. Will run by forensics to see if they can get DNA samples from each remain to make sure that this one whole body, and not multiple victims. Also, could you be a dear and not distract me for a while?"

"What do you even mean? I haven't done anything because you are hoarding the damned table? Have you never heard the term teamwork?"

"Trust me, there will be teamwork. But since FBI does mean Federal Bureau of Investigation, you would do most of the work with the actual investigating part."

"Alice, I swear to every sweet deity that looking at the remains is also the part of investigating. That's why it's called _investigation_. Not just the part where I go run the investigations when the family and friends of the victim appear."

She gave him a stern look, "Please don't call me Alice," she said with a barely concealed shiver of disgust as she continued her work.

"Whatever, _Sherlock."_

 _"Shut up, Watson,"_ was her reply. He turned towards the door and without any hesitation left the room.

* * *

With the annoyance out the room, Alicia was able to relax completely _. Funny how much work you get done once you are alone,_ she mused to herself as she took the victim's pelvis firmly into her hands. It was charred (from the fire she suspected was used while disposing of the body post-mortem) with a few of the ligaments still attached in a few places. She gently twisted and prodded the pelvis, trying to discern anything that could possibly give her a clue. It was then when she spotted it: the small hairline fracture that ran from the outer curve of the hip-bone towards the pelvic cavity. There were at least 3 possibilities for this:

1) While attacking, the suspect knocked down the victim with enough force to cause the fracture

2) While trying to hide the victim's body, the suspect managed to bang the hip against something heavy or sharp

3) Or, the victim was raped, if the exertion of the suspect's weight was strong enough.

She wrote down her observations within her notepad and continued the meticulous act of observing anything that was out of place or unusual and wrote it down.

It was going to be a long day.

* * *

Meanwhile, Alfred was downstairs speaking with his colleagues about the similarities between all three cases.

"Look, I want to say that I feel that these three cases are somewhat interrelated. All victims were found within walking distance or in today's case, inside one of a Naval Base. This justifies that the killer is part of the Navy. However, to our knowledge, none of the victim's are affiliated with the Navy or any of the military branches, which currently makes it impossible to figure out the killer's motives."

"If you take into consideration what body parts were discovered, it seems our killer is trying to make a statement," his colleague Ludwig Beildschmidt added into the conversation as he was at the other 2 crime scenes, "each body was found without their hands. 0f course, that leads to multiple motives, but it doesn't narrow it down to one: could he be punishing them with cutting off their hands?"

"It seems plausible, yet why would he cut them off from the forearm down?"

They both became quiet, quietly consumed in their own thoughts. People passed by them, rushing to and from the police station, mumbling and speaking to each other as the minutes dragged by. The sky was littered with clouds, lazing their way across the San Franciscan skyline. The peace and quiet that surrounded them became disrupted by Ludwig's phone ringing.

"Excuse me," he said before moving into the building. He watched him leave, before going off on his own. It was time to speak with the Navy to see if they knew anything about the suspect.

* * *

"Do have any idea of what went down?"

He managed to catch up with his Japanese-American friend who was stationed at the Naval base, Kiku Honda. After the body was found, Kiku was assigned to run through the security feed and a list of people who had recently transferred to the base within the past 6 months. They were currently sitting in the CCTV room The flashing of the monitors around them slowly recreated what happened that fateful night of the possible day of death by the victim.

"So far, the search was somewhat conclusive. We managed to get a shot of the perpetrator using the security cameras. Through the cameras, he is seen dragging the bag from around the location of the barracks," Kiku commented as he panned into a particular scene in the evening of the fourth of August. In the zoomed in portion of the screen, you can clearly see the figure of a man dragging behind him a black trash bag from the barracks. Kiku zoomed out the camera and fast forwarded the tape to the exact time when the suspect tied the bag to the pier. "The time written on the time stamp was 00:13 of the following morning."

"Was there anyone awake at the time? Have you started a face analysis to see if the suspect is in the database?"

"For what my colleagues tell me, there isn't anything solid about that. I've begun running a facial recognition scan throughout the local database and nothing has appeared as of yet. I would need to send out alerts to all camps for their data as well."

"So what you are telling me is that until we get the DNA analysis of the body, we are at a dead end."

"Hai."

Alfred inhaled deeply before exhaling rather forcefully. He was frustrated that there were no leads for the case as of yet which gave the suspect (killer, he corrected himself as the other two bodies are surely connected with the case) the chance to flee into hiding.

"Thanks dude for your information today! It might not seem like much, but I'm sure that once things start clicking together, this information will help. Can you get in contact with me once you've finished the facial recognition scan?"

Kiku nodded and vocally assured him that he would personally find him and deliver the news. After pleasant farewells, Alfred left the main office from the Naval base and headed directly to his car. He felt his phone vibrate in his pocket so he quickly retrieved it and answered it.

"Hello?"

"Alfred, is that you?"

 _Here we go again_ , "What is it, Isabella? It better be important, because if it's not I will-"

"Look. I know you are probably very tired and would like to go get food, or sleep or whatever, but we have a name for our victim. Now get over here so that you can show us your personal charm and help us arrange interviews tomorrow with the victim's families and all of the other technical stuff."

He sighed out in relief. _Finally, something to work with,_ "I'll be on my way."


	3. Chapter 3

"Our victim is Benjamin Carriendo, a 26-year-old Spaniard-American male who was recently transferred over to Hunter's Point," Alicia supplied the information to Alfred from what was written down on the clipboard, "both of his parents passed away and only had his older brother, Antonio. He had lived with his brother after his parents died and before he joined the Navy. That was for about 4 years. The list of his friends is not definite, but others are beginning the tedious task of interviewing. We are in charge of interviewing immediate family members and friends."

Before Alfred managed to begin his banter, Alicia responded, "Not my decision. But we do get the most important of the interviews, so clearly they are trusting us with it. Hopefully, you might find clues linking all of the cases together."

* * *

They should have expected this. Truly they should have: taking the violent, yet the sudden death of immediate family never bodes well for anyone. More so with the last of immediate family members. After the man had calmed significantly, they slowly probed questions his direction.

"No lo entiendo (I don't understand)," he sobbed, "who would have killed him? It makes no sense."

"Would you let us search his room? Maybe clues towards the killer are inside."

Antonio looked at Alicia before giving a teary-eyed nod, and soon the small trio left the small living room in search of clues. Alfred stayed behind and began the grueling process of the interview.

* * *

"From what we gathered, you say that Benjamin was a well-rounded guy. Nice guy so to speak."

Antonio nodded. The interview had been going on for the better part of the hour, and Alfred noticed that he was exhausted. "Okay, the last question before I let you go: was there any strange moments before he went missing?"

Antonio clasped his hands together and looked down, deep in thought. Alfred allowed him to think, hoping that with the silence he was providing Antonio could possibly remember more.

"Actually, there is something that is kind of strange, but I'm not sure if it counts at all."

Alfred gave him an inquisitive look, "It might help considering that this is a strange case, anything strange could have open leads."

"Well," he cleared his voice, "he recently set me up on a blind date he met at a bar. Her name is Lovina, someone who is from the area. The strange thing here is that he has never set me up with anyone before. Usually, I was the one setting him up with pretty ladies."

"That's all?"

"Yes. Since he spends most of the time on the base, I don't get to see him frequently."

"Can I get her number? If it is strange, then it would be important to interview her too."

Antonio nodded before weakly repeating the number for him. Alfred scribbled it on the notepad he had in his hands before deftly closing. He briefly shook hands with him and asked for permission to enter into Benjamin's room.

"Go ahead," Antonio uttered dejectedly, "If it means you can find his killer faster, you have full access to his stuff within the house."

* * *

By the time Alfred managed to catch up with Alicia, she had already started to shuffle through Benjamin's possessions.

"You find anything interesting?" He asked from the door frame as he began to place shoe covers to avoid contaminating the scene.

"Not at the moment," she replied back, still sifting through the drawers, "I was able to find fingerprints all across the bedside table. I already took the set of all of the ones I could find. What is surprising is that that is the only place I could find them. You'd imagine that you'd find them on the doorknob, the dressers, or even the closet door, but nothing. Our killer is very meticulous with hiding evidence. Or maybe," she trailed. Alfred looked up from what he was doing and supplied his opinion: "You think the victim hid his own tracks?"

"It seems possible. Maybe he is hiding something; something that he knew people would not approve?"

At this point, Alfred had already suited himself up with protective gear and helped with the search. If there is anything that Alfred had learned in his training and previous experiences as an investigator, it was that you can see the person's behavior and personality through their home. Was it clean? Messy? Filled with paperwork or trinkets? Were there posters covering the wall?

In this case, it seemed that the victim was neat and efficient. There wasn't much of a mess (whether from Benjamin being clean or his older brother keeping it up periodically. Photos inside of frames were all across the drawers and hung on the walls. They ranged from photos of younger photos of himself with his brother with their parents in time-stilled shots in their silly outdoor adventures. There were others where he was clearly in his teens, hanging out at sports games on the sideline, with a woman he assumed was his girlfriend at the time. There were photos of his high school's graduation, the look of his parents and brother clearly proudful of his accomplishment.

The photo that caught his eyes was one of the few that he noted were from his enlistment in the Navy. It was a photo of what he assumed was his close friends back in San Diego, everyone looking across the shipyard, the rising (or setting, he wasn't sure) sun illuminating their content faces.

"Hey, can you help me lift up the mattress from the bed frame?"

He was caught out of his reverie and glanced in the direction of Alicia. She had her hands clearly underneath the mattress, intent on doing it herself but fully knowing that she was going to need help. Sweat had begun to drip down the sides of her temples because of the laborious work she had already put in for the past nearly 2 hours. "Is this the last place you need to check?"

She nodded while wiping off most of the sweat in the crook of her elbow, "From this room it is. Besides the fingerprints and traces of his hair, we have nothing else for solid evidence. Hopefully, we get some evidence from under here."

He quickly sett off to help her, rushing to the other side of the bed. He slid his fingers deftly underneath the mattress, and before he had the opportunity to lift it up:

"Ouch! What the-?"

He immediately moved his hands somewhere else underneath the mattress and with one mighty tug, quickly lifted it from the frame, leaving Alicia stupified by his strength. He grinned, amazed that he could still impress people with a display of his raw strength. "Please," he replied with his grin slowly becoming a smirk, "you wouldn't be the first one to have been awed at the heroic strength that Alfred Fletcher Jones has."

That snapped her out of her stupor. "Shut up, you pompous ass."

"Mhm, keep telling yourself that, princess," he shot back as he quickly surveyed what was poking him. His eyes grew wide with both surprise and concern. He pulled up the object with two deft fingers before showing it off to his partner. "Seems our victim wasn't too clean about his past habits."

She studied the object with fierce intensity, "This is you assuming that this is his?"

"No, " he denied, "He might not have done drugs, but there is the possibility that he was involved in drug trafficking."

She pondered about his comment. I seemed plausible to her; after all, should his be a drug-related crime, finding used needles inside the victim's personal items would almost be natural. Almost. She quickly grew concerned. "Come here," she demanded.

He tilted his head, confused, "Why?"

She groaned out of frustration, "Just come here, dammit. If you just pricked yourself with the used needle, you just opened yourself up to who knows what diseases." He walked over to her, clearly infuriated that she was bossing him around, and outstretched his affected arm. She gently grasped it with her own and slowly began to peel off his glove. Once she had it off, she turned his hand palm-side up and began to fully examine his fingertips. Alfred knew that this could be considered as intimate, so before he made a complete fool of himself, he decided to cut the silence. "Damn it, woman," he hissed under his breath, "You're a private detector, not an EMT."

"First of all, I actually have my EMT certification. Second of all, did you really just-?"

He looked on sheepishly, "Yeah, I might have."

She shook her head fondly. She couldn't admit it out loud yet, but she was growing fond of him. "Nerd," she joked back. She just finished her examination and replied with her most 'doctor' voice, "Well, Mr. Jones, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but you might die."

His eyes grew wide, "Surely, you jest."

She gave him a serious look. Concern bloomed within his chest; surely, he wouldn't die because of something as simple as this?

She nodded, "Yes. There is the possibility that you could die. There always is. But as long as you go and get blood tests, you should be fine. Lighten up."

He was filled with giddy irritation. "Wow, aren't you fun at parties?"

'Yeah sure and you become the stripper. Now come on, we need to bag the needle and this, " she waved a piece of paper in front of him, "letter which happens to be one of the few letters that I found, and I think it might hold important information."


	4. Chapter 4

**_AN: I fully understand this is late as hell. And I'll take full responsibility for it because I am preparing for finals at uni. And it gets hectic sometimes. Anyway, thank you to those who have started reading this fic, following/favoriting, and reviewing. It means a whole bunch to me!_**

 ** _Enjoy!_**

* * *

 _April 14, 2014_

 _Brother,_

 _By the time you find this, I will probably be off in the Navy, as I always wanted to. You shouldn't worry about me being here. If anything, I fear for you. first time living on your own after our parent's death. Please be kind with_ _(illegible)_ _. Knowing you, you are going to give him hell about being friends with me. Also, please try to stay out of trouble! Only Lord knows you would probably get together with your friends and haunt all of our pretty neighbors._  
 _I'll keep in contact with you soon. Please don't miss me too much!_

 _Yours truly,_

 _Benjamin Carriendo_

* * *

Three days.

Three excruciating days to get in contact with Lovina. There was something suspicious about her leaving her country to visit distant family in Italy within the past week, the same week with the discovery of her friend's body. Unfortunately, there was no way for them to run off to the European continent considering that all of these cases had occurred nationally. Because of it, they now had to play the waiting game.

 _How boring,_ Alfred thought to himself, _I'd rather be doing heroic deeds instead of sitting here collecting dust._ His stomach rumbled loudly: his cheeks heated up. All of this investigating has put off on his routine eating schedule. He slowly stood up from his seat, slowly rolling his head around to stretch out his muscles supporting it. After a few more moments of stretching out, he headed towards the door to find something to munch on.

* * *

By the time that he arrived at the bistro, he was absolutely famished. Quickly ordering the food from his waiter, he spread out the few notes he had brought with him across the currently empty table. He tried grasping within his mind how all of these cases were part of a larger scheme of things.

The first cases were eerily similar: the bodies would be found, both hands missing. Nothing suspicious surrounding the victims. Neither of the previous two cases had any criminal records. Actively involved in the military or had family or friends actively enrolled in the military. According to their respective families, there weren't any suspicious activities going on in their lives, at least to their knowledge. It was as if their killer had just vanished.

"Are you the investigator for the case of Benjamin Carriendo's murder?"

He looked upwards to the voice that addressed him. The waiter (well, at least Alfred assumed was a waiter at this particular bistro at the heart of San Fransisco) looked down at him expectantly with his fiery red eyes. Alfred simply nodded and allowed the waiter to continue. He signaled the waiter to take a seat across from him, which the stranger willingly applied. What quickly followed was probably one of the strangest "unofficial" interviews he has ever conducted.

"So in case you haven't figured it out yet, I am one of this older brother's friends."

"Antonio's?"

The albino tipped his head in agreement. Alfred quickly began to search through the pocket of his briefcase and fished out a notebook and a pen in order to write down most of the following interview.

"Where you close with him? Or at least as close as possible considering the situation?"

"I grew up with the kid practically. He was only 2 years younger than me, so as soon as we became neighbors, we kind of hit it off. Antonio was part of my age group in the school, so we hung out basically all of the time. It was totally awesome!"

"And what was the relationship like between you guys?"

And such the next hour passed by without much of a hiccup until the owner of the restaurant interjected quite harshly.

" _Mon ami_ , you are supposed to be working, not lolly-gagging with the customers. There is a reason why you are getting paid after all," he finished off with a little dramatic flair. The man (whom he figured out his name was Gilbert) looked at his friend with exasperation before excusing himself to speak with his boss in the back room. This gave Alfred some time to look over the notes he had written and do a quick comparison with what he had written when he conducted the interview with Antonio. For the most part, almost everything matched up with what Antonio had said, except for one notable exception.

What Alfred was highly concerned about was that Benjamin was rarely seen at the naval base during the weekends. Of course, he'll have to double check with the records once he can get in contact with his friend again, but if that were true: where would he have gone? And why was he hiding it from his brother?

From what Gilbert has told him, Benjamin didn't want to worry his brother about the things he did over the weekend, but every time Gilbert tried asking him why, the conversation was funneled somewhere else, and was never broached again for the remainder of the time they spoke with each other in that moment.

He looked briefly away from his notepad to attend his phone. With deft fingers, he pulled it out his pocket and unlocked it, only to find a notification glaring right back at him.

 _Full autopsy report got back. Sent it to your inbox for your full review. Toxicology found traces of propofol in the remains. He must have been on the drug for a while now since we did find traces of it. Double checking his medical records to see if he had a prescription. Also suspecting, as crazy as it sounds, that he must be a victim of revenge crime. Call me once you can. ~Alice_

He frowned at his phone. _Propofol_? He quickly searched up the term in the search bar of his phone and clicked the first article that popped up. Each sentence brought more confusion: from what the article said, it mentions that propofol was used as an anesthetic for ICU sedation, general surgeries, open heart surgeries, neurosurgeries, and usually faded after 10 to 15 minutes after the last given dosage. _Additionally_ , he continued to read as he scrolled down the page, _propofol is used in low dosages to treat psychological diseases such as OCD, psychosis, and/or schizophrenia._ He pulled up his emails and found the file she had sent earlier, skimming through the contents until he found what he was looking for;

The suspected cause of death: _Blunt force to the temporal part of the skull._

He stared at his phone in disbelief. Thoughts swam through his head, none of them made sense with what he just read. None of the interviews disclosed that he had mental issues. _Unless he didn't want anyone to know_. But if that were true, he wouldn't have taken it for so long to the point that it showed up. Or would he have taken because of the anxiety he felt before his death? It only brought up more questions than answers. He quickly looked into the autopsy report of the others. There was nothing suspicious about the other cases that were assigned to his team involving drugs of any kind. The only thing that they did find with those bodies were only parts, and never the whole, but the way that they were killed most definitely matched the way Benjamin was killed.

So did it mean that propofol was actually used in the crime, or is it not related at all?

 _What statement was the killer trying to make?_


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: HI!**

 **Ya'll are probs wondering what happened to me and quite frankly Imma keep it short**

 **1) Finals for last quarter took up a lot of time.**

 **2)Writing interrogation scenes is hard, so I needed to do some more research in order to get an idea of what goes on and**

 **3) I lost the flash drive where I had most of the research done involving this story so I had to play catch up and find the other files (if they existed) and links that came with them.**

 **You guys are in for a special treat today because it's a really long chapter! (Hopefully, now with the time that I have, this will become standard for the upcoming chapters)**

 **Anyway, enjoy!**

* * *

From a distance, an undiscernable figure watched everything that unfurled itself across the diner. An unnerving smirk rolled off his pursed lips.

 _If only he knew_ , he thought to himself as he continued to sip on his coffee and enjoyed his lunch.

 _If only he knew._

* * *

The next time they had the opportunity to speak with each other was three days after the impromptu interview with Gilbert. Since then, they haven't received any new evidence for either case. They were at a stalemate.

That is, until now where they were patiently standing outside the interrogation room the FBI borrowed from the PD. Both Alfred and Alicia were quietly whispering to each other about the plans to approach Lovina.

"You'd expect her to know about the way he was murdered?"

"More now than ever," she assured him, "when we told her about his murder, there was something off from her reaction."

Alfred paused to think for a moment, "You think she was the one...?"

She gave him a deadpan stare, "If it were her, how do you think she, a 4 foot 8 115 pound woman, managed to murder a 200 plus pound 6 foot 5 Navy trained drugged male?"

"Damn I was just asking! You don't need to get offended by the hero," he huffed. Her deadpan glare turned into a judging stare, one that he was sure that she was judging him for what he just said.

" _Sure. Just asking an almost obvious question."_

"You never know. I've known just as terrifying women who could take down a grown woman no problem."

 _Christ, she was so annoying_ , he thought to himself. _She seemed so, so_ -

"Pompous? So full of herself? Needs help? Should shut the fuck up?"

He turned to her, the blood slowly draining out of his face. The mortified expression that slowly dawned on his face was everything that she needed to know that he had realized what his mistake was.

"I understand that I might be a difficult person to work with, however, I have never spoken out loud about your _unfavorable characteristics_ while you were in the same room. Unlike you, I can remain professional with everyone around me. Now, get rid of that ridiculous face before you go into the interview."

"Now, tell me why I should-"

She cut him off by warning him in a seething tone, "Clearly, you haven't got the memo, but I do have more years of experience than you do. Meaning _I outrank you_. Which should tell you enough that I have the position as lead investigator and have the authority to _fire you_. Now stop being so immature and buckle up cowboy. This interview is what will be our turning point in the case. If we don't get the appropriate information today, this case _will_ remain unsolved."

* * *

"Our reports and interviews have led us to the conclusion that you, Ms. Vargas, were the last person to see him alive before his death on July 25th, 2017. May you describe your relationship with him?"

The young woman in question glanced his way with uneasy eyes but otherwise remained silent.

"Ma'am, you are aware of your Miranda-"

"Yes I am fully aware of my rights sir, she answered bitterly, "however, if I do say anything, it will be placing all of your lives in danger."

His eyes opened a fraction of a millimeter, "Why would you say that?"

She exhaled loudly, "There was a reason why I left the country. I was beginning to prepare to leave the country for good. I was only planning on coming back for my personal possessions."

"It sounds rather suspicious," he replied, hastily adding, "however we have reasons to believe that you are not the primary suspect."

She snapped back, "Then why am I here?"

He bit back a sigh of desperation and attempted not to forcefully roll his eyes. "Well, Ms. Vargas, we were hoping if you knew anything about any of the people he knew. Especially the ones who could have possibly been his enemies or friends his close family and friends would disprove of."

"Enemies? People his close family wouldn't like? No, no, no, no but who would-"

He was very close, _so damned close,_ to slamming his hand on the table but held himself together under the tight chains of patience. The way she had so quickly evaded the question clearly meant that she was hiding something. He decided to take another approach.

"You do realize," he said softly, "that the obstruction of justice is a punishable offense, right?"

She visibly paled, wincing at his previous statement. He continued to push his point, "Furthermore, if you don't give us information about whomever you are hiding, you are more than likely to receive a rather harsh punishment because of it."

She finally relented to his tactic. "Okay!" she shouted, voice filled with panic, "Okay, I will tell you some part of it, but I want a deal from this. Because what I am about to say with most likely kill me because of it; I want protection."

Alfred raised his eyebrow, a sign he gave for her to continue. "Protection in the form of a new identity. I want to move out of the country back with my grandfather. All arrangements have been made for him to keep me under his wing, but _he_ will be able to find me quickly should I keep the identity I have now."

He pondered on the idea for a bit, before glancing towards the window on his right. He could barely make out the two figures in the room adjacent to the dimly lit room he was currently residing in but from the looks of it, he could make out that she was as tense as he was with this interrogation.

"As long as you keep in touch with us," he said after a painful moment of silence, "we will place you under the Witness Protection Program. _Now, spill._ "

She let out a relieved exhale, her entire posture changing with the promise he had said. She grasped the glass of water that was sitting on the table in front of her, briefly clearing her voice before beginning her recollection of the man she had the interaction with, "The man you are looking for goes by the initials A.J. He was someone whom I had the unfortunate knowledge of being acquainted with. He is not the most trustworthy of people, nor does he trust people generally. However, he loves being in charge: the reason why he is the current charge of a large crime organization. They have the habit to recruit anyone whom he takes fancy in."

Intrigued, Alfred pushed onwards, "So he took him in as a result?"

She shook her head, "No, he took the collateral damage of my mistake."

"Can you expound on that?"

The light within the dingy room flickered, the chair slowly creaking as Lovina shifted her weight, uncomfortable by the question asked, but relented and continued, "I tried to recruit one of his close friends for a large project A.J. was working on several months ago. Benjamin began getting suspicious of his friend at the time, but never outright said anything or confronted him about what he was doing. Things were running smoothly until he found out that his friend had mysteriously disappeared, which was when he got in contact with me."

"Who was his friend?"

"The first victim, Brennan Asani."

The looming silence that followed left the air thick with an indiscernible feeling he couldn't quite put his finger on. The air around them suddenly turned warmer, a reminder that he should push forward and take his time to receive full details in order to set a concrete criminal profile for the killer they were trying to catch. His gut, however, betrayed him and urged him to get this over as fast as possible.

As if she was reading his mind, she cleared her throat and continued her discourse in an urgent fashion that sent Alfred's anxiety through the roof, "His project, overall, was to get revenge on someone who had betrayed him many years ago. Never did find out what he wanted to do, or what were his reasons for doing so. He did, unfortunately for him, leave the name of the person he wanted to inflict his wrath on."

The more she spoke, the more questions popped into his head: _what would have caused so much anger to the point of having killed people who were not involved with that event? What were his motives for killing the victims (_ if his assumptions were correct) _who had no knowledge as to why they were forced or recruited to this cause? Where the victims_ _ **actually**_ _related to the person A.J. wanted revenge from?_

The most important question was looming in the forefront of his mind, yet he refused to directly ask for the person's name: _better yet_ , he told himself, _that she would reveal whom that person he wanted revenge from was without being pushed to do so. She's already risking her life for this, and pushing more would cause her to clam up._

"So what you are telling me that this A.J guy killed Benjamin Carriendo because he was a loophole in his plan?"

Ignoring him completely, (a sign that Alfred took as confirmation to his question) she pushed herself to speak hastily, stuttering nervously, "T-the others had tried to st-stop him, but he had them killed. A st-struggle for power."

Alfred grew concerned, tension building within his muscles, hysteria slowly clouding his judgment; _I don't have time to run around and avoid the question,_ "Who was he after?"

She looked straight at him, eyes agitated with fear coming in from an unknown source, "I've said too much."

He pushed his point home, "Who was he after?!"

She was slowly breaking down in front of him, whatever that had taken hold of her finally reaching a turning point and boiling out of her,

"Who. Was. He. After?!"

It wasn't helping at all that he was slowly following her footsteps. Something about the room changed in in front of his eyes. Either it was that the room had chilled considerably or it was that the room was slowly fading in and out of his focus. He tried standing up from the chair across from her, unsteadily standing up to his full height. His knees felt weak, something that was ringing alarm bells in some distant part of his brain, but in the present, he just wanted to lay down. A coughing fit overcame him, his lungs spazzing with every breath he took. Next to him, a figure slumped in the chair, gasping for air, saying something he couldn't quite fully understand. He heard her say things, but he was slowly losing focus and slipping into unconsciousness. The last thing he remembers her saying before he slipped into lulling darkness, with full clarity, was the name.

A name he was not expecting.

* * *

In the side room, the staff present watched the horror unfold on the other side of the one-way window. Alicia was the first to snap out of the stupor and harshly barked orders with a calm precision.

"I want a few volunteers here to help me get them out. To the rest of you: I want this building evacuated immediately and call in a four hundred(*) and a four o' eight (*). Get out of here because there has been a breach and there may as well be poisonous gas floating everywhere. On a side note, you do have gas masks or masks to filter out air for those of us staying behind?"

After everything had been sorted out and everyone who was not involved in the rescue had begun to evacuate, the small team of four (Alicia being the one leading the team) began to gear up with face masks, some using sweaters or lifted the hem of their shirt to add on more protection. She briefed them quickly as they began to approach the door to the interrogation room, "Honestly, you guys know this already: get in and get out and try not to waste more time than necessary. We have no idea what type of gas it can be, and I'd rather not have anyone risk themselves more than what is necessary."

Swiftly, someone opened the door and everyone filed into the room. There was nothing in the air that smelled different, she noted, so that took off a considerable amount of gases from the already large list. As a collective group, they took both unconscious figures in pairs and hightailed the hell out of the room. However, before leaving the building something stopped all four of them in their tracks. The familiar crackle of the speakers coming to life loomed overhead, and in a monotone voice, someone spoke " _Oderint dum metuant_ " before the speakers cut off completely. They looked at each other incredulously, before continuing to drag themselves out of there.

Another problem for add to the ever-growing list that was part of the case. Something that she'll take care of another day, preferably once Alfred was in the clear.

* * *

 **A/N: So there are places with asterisks and the meaning to them (At least, under the actual San Fran police department) are as follows:**

 _ **Four hundred (400): Evacuation**_

 _ **Four o' eight (408): Send ambulance**_

 **Also, since my schedule has opened up considerably, maybe I'll be able to update more frequently. I do have another 2 chapters somewhat fleshed out in a separate notebook, so hopefully, they will be up soon.**

 **Thank you for sticking around all of this time**


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